Radioactive
by Megustamuffins
Summary: The sounds of the war crashing around him, Allen has to make a choice. Escape from where the survivors huddle underground to try to see his lover before it all ends, or stay and watch as man after man is carried in, injured or dead. A Yullen one-shot, that may just change the way you see what "helpless" really is.


**I worked my butt of on this to try and give you guys an accurate picture of the thing that has been plaguing my brain for the last few days... **

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The room was dark, damp, and filled to the brim with crying people. Allen bit his lip and shuddered as the next earth shattering wave of energy hit the shelter.

With a sad smile he looked down at the picture in his lap, a few tears slipping from his silver eyes. Over to his next, a dark haired Chinese girl sobbed into a torn, red blanket. He scooted closer to her and placed a hand on her back.

She looked up and him through tear filled eyes and sniffled, burying her head into his tattered coat while he soothingly patted her head. Soon she fell asleep, the young teenager placed back onto her small set-up. Allen stood and cracked his back, frowning as another shake sent him to his knees and a large booming of impact shook the walls around him.

A few screams erupted from the other dirty, hopeless women and children, not a man (besides him) in sight other than the two black-clad guards sitting against the one iron door, their heads in between their knees. Over in the corner stood stack after stack of water bottles, organized into packages of 12, and next to them sat the only food source, cans of vegetables and what could be salvaged along with boxes of protein and granola bars.

He got back to his feet and flinched as one ankle shook a bit under his weight.

The guards sprung to their feet as the sound of footsteps came from beyond the door. It was flung open and in rushed a man in white and a few guards holding a carrier with a slender man stretched upon it.

A cloth lay over his face, and where one eye should have been, the white towel was bloodstained. Scratches covered his arms and legs, and he was barely moving. The small woman besides Allen stirred, looking at the stretcher, then gave a loud scream and rushed to where the crowd now partially blocked the boy. The scarlet haired man was soon hidden from view by the people, crying and exclaimations reaching the corner Allen resided in.

"Is anyone here a doctor! Where is the doctor?" A scream, louder than the rest erupted from the mass of panicked people, and Allen rushed through the group and stood next to the dark haired crying teen.

"I am." He volunteered and smiled reassuringly at the girl he had comforted earlier. She shakily smiled back.

He took the handed first aid kit as the guards dispensed the crowd. Examining the scratches he wearily frowned. "I would say he will be fine, but to be honest I am still unaware whether the scratches contain toxin or not." A groan came from the boy and Allen placed a hand on his chest. "Don't sit up. Can you tell me your name?" The girl again burst into tears, and Allen breathed deeply.

"L..lavi. Bookman." Allen smiled and finished wrapping up the marks covering his body.

"Lavi. Can you please tell me what the thing that attacked you looked like? Or how it got you?" Allen's heart was beating against his chest.

"Y..yes. I am in the third square, and they had torn through the first two. I heard the commander giving orders to attack, then the man in front of me was sliced and then I was slammed from the side by.. one of them. It… it smiled and then.." The boy looked down at his lap. "It stuck its hand in my eye and I blacked-out. I think someone behind me shot the thing but I don't remember."

Allen flinched. "Okay, well you're going to be okay, though you might want to start wearing an eye-patch, because I cannot salvage your eye. As far as I know, that certain type isn't radioactive and doesn't contain poison, but to be safe I wouldn't move around too much." The boy stood up on shaky knees and smiled widely.

"Thank you doctor." The Chinese girl said and Allen forced a smile.

"It's my job." He walked away from the two and to the iron door, he gestured to the guards and they slowly opened it once more, Allen going towards the men's restrooms, his hands covered with blood. Once he made sure it was empty, he sunk to his knees, tears rolling down his face.

Looking at the picture, crumpled in his palm, he grimly smiled. The third square already. Time was running out.

He walked back to the door, the picture hidden in his pants pocket. The guards on the other side waved him through, and he went back to the corner, the two next to him cuddled up and sleeping. He sunk into the worn, dirty pillow he owned and pulled one of the issued blankets over his head, falling to sleep instantly.

He woke to the celling shaking, the one light flickering and swinging from side to side. Allen rolled to his hands and knees, and tucked his head under his shoulders, as instructed in the mandatory emergency classes. The quake continued for a minute, but soon settled down, the light freezing in place once again and providing the weak, yellow lighting. The guards stood up as the sound of more footsteps came rushing behind the door. The concrete walls of the shelter had begun to crack, spider webs scattering across the dirt stained surface and the light making it appear like an old tape, the picture frozen as it repeating the same slide over and over.

He took a swing of the stale water next to him as the door was opened, the sounds of hurried words reaching his sensitive ears.

He heard them clear as day. "The fourth and fifth squares are almost gone, and they are sending in the sixth in about an hour. Expect lockdown procedure tonight. No one gets in or out. You have about 13 hours." Allen's heart skipped a beat, and he fell to his side, his eyes wide and staring at nothing.

They were sending in the sixth. That meant…

He began to silently cry, disbelief circling around his head. He had promised. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the tear stained and wrinkled photograph.

_I swear, I will be back._

He had made an oath, he had told Allen. As he went off, led by those officials.

_You stay, they will let you into the shelter. You can't fight Allen. You're a doctor, they have to let you stay._

He had wanted to fight alongside him.

_I bet you they won't even deploy the seventh. No need to worry. We are just the backup._

He shouldn't have listened. He should be out there, out there fighting alongside… him.

He got to his feet and leaned against the wall, ignoring the creaks and movements of the concrete. Lockdown. He had 13 hours. He needed to see him, before they died. He needed to save him.

With resolve he steadied himself and pulled on his coat, slipping his hands into his black gloves. He safely put the photograph in his pocket, new resolve in his heart. He smiled at the guards and before they could close the door, slipped out.

But this time, instead of going to the left, he went down the right corridor, the thin and stale air he was so used to filling his lungs.

The passage opened up, more pathways branching off and closed doors stark against the dirty walls. With a breath, he opened his ears and listened, extending down the paths until he heard it, the sound of the breeze, of the outdoors.

The outdoors he hadn't seen in a year. A year inside the cramping, cracking shelter, hiding there with the women and children as their men were forced to fight against the government's own doing.

If only they would have known. If only they would have stopped. Bomb after bomb eating away at the earth until finally, finally they realized what it had done.

You can't poison the world and expect it to live.

He followed the noise, left then right then right.

He passed door after door, barely any filled with the sounds of hope, most bitter resolve and complaining.

Finally he came to it. The way out.

A large iron door, four times the size of the one securing where he had spent the year. A wheel was attached to the center, the bolt loose from the tremors that plagued the ground. He could see it, he could hear it, he could smell it. The outside. It was there.

He only had a little time. He still had to make it to the miles away where the fighting was. He had to save him.

He grabbed the wheel and leaned with all his weight and strength, trying to turn it, to make it budge. Only a strained creak came from the metal as it shifted an inch.

He let go, and focused. Do this. Do this for him.

Again he grabbed hold and pulled, pushing the metal circle as far as he could, and with another creak it shifted, this time at least a foot. He strained, pushing it with everything he had.

He knew it took multiple men to do it. He didn't have that luxury.

"For you." He murmured under his breath and with a heave the wheel again moved, circling over and over until finally the sound of a lock pulling back reached Allen's ears.

He opened the door and with wide eyes watched the dark red light stream in. Outside it looked like a war zone. He walked up the stairs and with a pull closed the door tightly, the automatic lock feature jumping in.

The earth was a barren, sand color and the trees were smoking lightly, looking like red, bare pine trees. They filled his vision to the left, and to the right there was an ocean of something black, where he could have sworn there used to be a lake. The smell of fire, ash and death filled his nose and with every step he took an unpleasant buzz shot up his leg.

Guess it really was radioactive. The whole earth sounded like a buzz, a spicy unexplainable charge of electricity like a heater exploding with carbon monoxide and a suffocating lack of oxygen replaced with empty space.

He closed his eyes and listened, and soon enough the sound of scream, guns and fighting came rushing back at him like an ocean of noises and feelings. He took off in the direction, the echo back having taken longer than he thought, the place he wanted to be at least 30 miles south.

He knew he couldn't make it, but it wasn't a choice. He needed to make it.

He had 10 hours to save his life, to save the one thing keeping him tethered to sanity, tethered to reality.

He took off in a run, hoping that he would make it in time. Step after step he burst through the trees and smoking underbrush, the reddish plants crunching with every footstep.

The first hour was okay, but then the stich in his side became unbearable and he couldn't breathe. It felt like there was no air, and it was too hot and his senses were in overdrive.

But in his minds eye, he could see the sixth being devoured and he knew that he needed to hurry. He took in a breath and sped up, whisking through the never ending forest, pushing off the trees as he put everything he had into each leap.

He didn't know how long had gone by, but he knew he was close. Maybe less than a hour, but he saw fighting already resuming. And the men were obviously not the same.

The seventh square, the last resource. Armed with what guns and knives remained against the creatures.

Finally the edge of the forest came into view, and he slid around a tree trunk, looking at the fighting.

Then he saw it. His love, with an old rusty sword, fighting off a man-looking thing with fangs and teeth, playing with him. And with a flick from it, he sunk to one leg, the other obviously injured.

The beast stood above him with a cat-like smile, and Allen felt his heart pound as he jumped, streatching his legs out and trying to save him.

_I have to._

Legs became longer, white fur covering what used to be arms, cracking and stretching.

_I must. Save him._

His face changed, elongating, teeth sprouting from where had been human features. His torso slanted, striped stretching and covering what once was man.

_Save him!_

Black lines swirled around and around his body and with a feral cry, he hit the beast about to sink its teeth into **his **neck.

_SAVE HIM!_

With a huge, black and white paw, he stretched the thing as it fruitlessly tried to fight back, its cry's becoming mews as the light left its eyes.

And as he raised his head and let out a cry of victory, he turned to face where his lover lay. Now, now he would finally see him again.

That was when he met the cold black barrel of a rifle.

And with a crack, it all went black.

The tall, dark haired man stood on one shaky leg, and threw the gun to one side, facing the direction of the shelter.

"I fight. To save him."

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**Understand?**

**Leave a review if you need it explained, or give me your interpretation of it. :)**

**Thanks for reading.**

**By the way HOLY FUCKNESS I HAVE ART!**

**Thanks to a wonderful o-Just-an-Allusion-o there is an amazing picture to go along with this. (****celandine-she-were on deviantart)**

**Here is a cropped link and on my profile there is another because HOLY FUCKNESS! Okay it is her name then add a dot then add deviantart then add below junk.**

** .com(slash)gallery(slash)35434533#(slash)art(slash)Radioactive-360318247?_sid(equal)c69e65a**

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